


In His Hot Youth

by teprometo



Series: 2013 Summer Pornathon [3]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Dubious Consent, First Time, M/M, Sex Pollen, Team Gluttony
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-13
Updated: 2013-07-13
Packaged: 2017-12-21 11:26:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/899746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teprometo/pseuds/teprometo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Something in the air makes Merlin hot.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In His Hot Youth

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2013 Summer Pornathon week three challenge: [Fuck or Die](http://summerpornathon.livejournal.com/91415.html). This fic placed second in its group.

The sun warms Merlin’s skin, makes him feel sleepy-happy as he dips his toes into the glinting water of the stream, waiting for Arthur to finish dressing. He leans back, letting his head fall against the soft grass, arms outstretched above him.

“Isn’t this your job, Merlin?” Arthur says, and Merlin smiles at the sound of shifting fabric.

“Would you like me to dress you, my lord?”

Arthur doesn’t answer.

The wind shifts, bringing with it a sweet scent, and Merlin inhales deeply, trying to place it. It’s very warm there at the stream’s edge. Too warm. Merlin unties his kerchief and tosses it. He’s sweating profusely, his skin slick with it, and he tears off his damp tunic. He’s halfway through kicking off his trousers when Arthur says, “If you wanted a bath, you should have had one earlier.”

Merlin knows those words, but he’s having trouble making sense of them. He’s naked now, running hands all over himself, across his chest, trying to put himself together, but he’s still too hot.

“What are you doing?” Arthur says. His bare foot grazes over Merlin’s chest. “Why are you so sweaty? Are you well?”

Arthur is bending over him, hands on Merlin’s neck and forehead, and Merlin looks up at him. He’s _beautiful_ , and Merlin wants to touch him, so he does. He wraps his hand around the back of Arthur’s neck and pulls him down close, rubs their noses together and goes cross-eyed trying to look into Arthur’s eyes.

“Let me—” Arthur starts, then hesitates, turns his face into Merlin’s neck. “Fuck, Merlin, you smell—” Arthur’s voice is choked off, and Merlin reaches for his breeches. They’re poorly laced, easy to push down, and Merlin presses his hand to Arthur’s groin, wraps fingers around his prick and pulls, coaxing.

“Stop,” Arthur says, but his voice is thin, breathless. He’s dragging his nose up Merlin’s chin, down his jaw, behind his ear. He’s fully hard in Merlin’s hand, and he groans hot into Merlin’s ear, bucking into Merlin’s fist.

“Need you inside,” Merlin says, winding an arm around Arthur and yanking him down, their chests touching. But Arthur pulls himself back, leans away from Merlin, crouched in the empty space between his legs. 

“I can’t do this,” Arthur says, and his voice sounds panicked, his fists clenched tight against his thighs, and his eyes roving down Merlin’s body. His desire is as clear on his face as it is in his cock, so Merlin rolls himself onto his front and gets up onto his knees, spreading his arse open and sliding a finger inside. It’s wet like the rest of him, submerged in magic and so fucking hot, and Merlin knows he needs something there to take the ache away.

“Please fuck me,” Merlin whines into the ground, fucking back onto his fingers. “I’m so fucking hot. I _need_ it.” The long silence is agony, and Merlin spreads his legs wider, circles his hips, makes Arthur _watch._

“Don’t hate me,” Arthur whispers, and finally his thighs press up against Merlin’s. Merlin pulls his fingers out and grabs Arthur’s cock, guides him in, and it’s fucking _magic_ the way Arthur fucks him. He slides in deep, leans forward and buries his nose in Merlin’s neck, jerks hard against him.

Merlin feels like he’s being ripped apart with pleasure, like every part of him is on fire, burning with need. “Need your come,” Merlin moans, forehead sweaty in the crook of his arm.

Arthur bites down on Merlin’s shoulder and fucks harder, and Merlin thinks he might die from how good it feels. Arthur’s arms tighten around him and he lets out a whine, and Merlin’s whole body is inundated with bliss. When he comes, he feels it in his skull and his knees and the small of his back. He feels elevated and breathless, and it seems like it lasts for ages.

Arthur pulls out and flops down on his back, and through the haze of coming down, Merlin can see the concern on Arthur’s face. There will be consequences, of course—those are unavoidable. But for now, Merlin reaches over to curl his hand around Arthur’s hip. Arthur looks at him, and Merlin offers up a weak smile. He watches Arthur’s chest rise and fall, and when Arthur’s fingers graze over Merlin’s arm, Merlin lets his eyes fall shut, comfortable in the warmth of the sun and the gentle rippling of the stream.


End file.
